Actually, it was
by affectiion
Summary: "We're off to get Potter new clothes," Theo advised Draco. "And it is a truth universally acknowledged that you do, if nothing else, have an eye for style." In Harry's eyes, it wasn't a big deal.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

It was a very strange sight to see a group of Slytherins mixing with a group of Gryffindors. Moreso, Draco mused, a group of Slytherins and Gryffindors falling, one after the other, out of the Malfoy Manor floo. Draco smirked to himself; in reality, it was Granger, Weasley and Potter who had stumbled out. Theo, Blaise and Pansy had stepped from the hearth with all the grace and poise of people who had spent their youths being strictly instructed on the correct way to do such things. Blaise straightened his black jacket and adjusted his cuffs swiftly. "I told you he'd be here." He swanned off to flop artfully into a nearby armchair.

"But it's Saturday mate! Surely the boss can take a Saturday off!" Ron threw himself onto a chair next to Blaise, his Christmas jumper emphasising the red of his hair.

Harry somewhat reluctantly (to Draco's eye, at least) moved further into the room and curled his body into the corner of the couch. Hermione sat next to him and patted his shoulder, covered in his oversized jacket. Harry shot Draco a swift smile and said, "Malfoy works hard. Nothing wrong with that."

Draco stood from his comfortable chair and moved to rest against his desk. "Malfoy Industries doesn't sleep, Weasley. Being a tycoon takes work, no matter how effortless I make it look." He shot Ron a quick smirk. "But since you have all decided to unexpectedly interrupt those efforts, am I to assume that there is some kind of dire emergency?" He gazed at Pansy who was settling herself onto Blaise's lap.

"No, Draco darling," she drawled, not moving her gaze from Ron as she played with the hair on the nape of Blaise's neck. "Not an emergency per se."

"Wrong!" Theo butted in. "It is an emergency!" He remained standing, occasionally pacing in front of the ornate desk.

Hermione snickered quietly, unable to look at Theo or Harry in case it would exacerbate the giggling. "It's not _exactly_ an emergency Theo. You're being dramatic!"

"Theo, dramatic? No!" Draco rolled his eyes. "Really, not that it's not delightful to see you all, but I declined your luncheon invitation because I was busy. I am even more delighted that you thought of me in the case of whatever emergency this is, but I have paperwork to do." He sighed dramatically.

"It's really, really," Harry muttered, avoiding eye contact with Draco, " _not_ an emergency at all." He shot a dirty look at Theo.

"Alrighty then, Potter says it's not an emergency, _goodbye."_ Draco gestured to the floo.

Blaise snickered, "of course Potter doesn't think it's an emergency, but that's because -"

Pansy took her eyes off Ron for a brief second to smack Blaise. "You promised, darling."

Blaise shrugged. "Maybe, but-" Pansy cut him off with a firm shake of her head and he fell silent. Draco felt, rather than saw, the long suffering sigh Blaise heaved.

Ron looked challengingly at Pansy and threw in a snarky comment about Slytherin's being unable to keep a secret and then it was on.

As the group bickered, Draco gazed over his childhood friends. They each looked happy and well. Since graduating Hogwarts the previous year they had all settled into life without the Dark Lord reigning terror over them. Blaise's mother was residing in Italy, leaving Blaise to begin training as MediWizard at the Emergency Department of St Mungo's. He often came to dinner with amusing stories of unfortunate accidents that befell the patients he observed. Pansy had a talent for flower arranging, which conveniently assisted her in finding immediate employment in Diagon Alley as an apprentice florist. This displeased her parents, but pleased her immensely. She and Blaise were in some kind of relationship, but watching the way Pansy flirted so outrageously with Ron made it impossible for Draco to figure them out.

Theo was working as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. No one was sure exactly what he did, but Theo was happy, and after his father was murdered in Azkaban, Draco thought that if the job made Theo happy, it was worth all the stories that began and ended with "but I can't tell you about it."

They were each affected by the war, of course, and each had lost family and friends, but they had come out on top, and Draco was very grateful.

He pondered the Gryffindors, too. Hermione worked as an Unspeakable with Theo, which was how this strange little group had come together. Theo and Hermione were as stubborn as each other, and since becoming friendly, had spearheaded awkward lunches and dinners until their friends had been worn down into bearing each other's company. It wasn't until Draco and Ron had gotten drunk and played chess that they had all settled in and considered themselves friends, which led to this collection of people interrupting Draco's very well planned day of work.

Ron had, as predicted, entered Auror training and was, by all accounts, doing very well; his strategic mind impressing his superiors and fast tracking his progress. He would be completing the program an entire year early.

In a shock move, Harry had refused all offers from the Ministry to work for them in _any_ capacity - they had offered him carte blanche with choice of careers - opting instead to complete his schooling with the rest of them. He was currently Apprenticed to Professor McGonagall at Hogwarts.

Draco wondered why Harry was so uncomfortable today. He'd never seen the man so tense. Well, not recently at any rate. His body was curled into the corner of the couch and he genuinely looked like he'd rather be anywhere but where he was.

Noticing Draco's wandering attention, Hermione cleared her throat and the banter wore down. She made eye contact with Theo and flicked her eyes in Draco's direction.

"We're off to get Potter new clothes," Theo advised Draco. "And it is a truth universally acknowledged that you do, if nothing else, have an eye for style." He gestured vaguely at Draco's current outfit; a soft, grey, cashmere sweater, and his fitted trousers (with bespoke Italian shoes, of course).

"Mhmm," agreed Hermione.

"Whose side are you _on_ , Hermione?" Harry muttered.

Hermione gently patted his hand. "Yours, that's why we're here."

Harry breathed a quiet sigh, rubbing at his temples, as though warding off a headache, all the while gazing into the fire.

Draco mused at the ease in which the three Gryffindors had become Harry, Hermione and Ron in his head. He would never, of course, acknowledge this aloud - it might set a precedent or indicate friendship, and that would never do.

Draco had often wondered about Harry's wardrobe; it seemed to consist only of clothes that were entirely too big for him, and things that didn't suit him at all. He seemed to have a small rotation of oversized jeans, T-shirts and old school robes. Perhaps the jumpers Molly Weasley kept knitting him were the closest thing that he had to suitable attire, and considering how outlandish the colours continued to get every year, that was saying something.

Draco echoed Harry's sigh. "Alright, so I've been designated the… what? Shopping assistant?" He absently waved his wand and his files organised themselves into his grandfather's antique cabinet.

"Nah mate," Ron had found a sweet in his pocket and was munching on it. He shot a cheeky grin at Draco." Not the assistant, much more important than that. You get to be in charge."

"Draco, you must do this, Potter _needs_ your expertise." Pansy stood and ran her hands over her gown. Her outfit was very different to Hermione's - Draco had noticed that Muggle-borns and Half-Bloods were often more relaxed in their clothing choices, preferring jeans and jumpers, over the more formal attire chosen by Pure-Bloods, where all the witches wore dresses and the men leaned towards suits and dress shoes. Ron's eyes tracked the movements of her hands.

"As a gay man isn't it your duty to save the world from terrible fashion choices? And perhaps the rest of us could return to our lunch plans? They hardly need a pack of us following them around." Blaise finished her thought out loud.

Harry adjusted his glasses. "I hardly need any of you to do anything. It's _fine_." He wrapped his arms tighter around his knees. For someone who had faced so many dark wizards, Harry seemed so childlike at times. It tugged at Draco's heartstrings, although he would never admit it. Something about this situation wasn't right, and Draco had to get down to why. He wasn't into torturing people without good cause, and whatever was happening here didn't look like it would get the right snarky reaction from Harry at all.

"Alright," he sighed. "If, and only if, you give me five minutes to discuss your proposition with Potter _without_ the peanut gallery, I'll consider taking him shopping." He shot a pointed look at Pansy and Theo.

Ron jumped up. "Sounds like it's a go. I'm going for lunch. Who's coming?" He was practically bouncing on his toes in his eagerness to get to food.

Pansy gave a long suffering sigh. "It wasn't a yes. The key word was consideration and that is not a guarantee. However, I am hungry and I am going to ignore the ambiguity for the sake of your stomach. Come, Blaise." She swept towards the fireplace, Blaise rising to trail behind her.

"To the Lucky Beaker," she gave a pointed look at Ron. "Will you make it there?"

He snorted and nodded. "Yes Princess," he sketched a mocking bow. "Lead the way."

"Go ahead," Theo drawled, "I just need to have a word to Granger and Draco. I'll owl you tomorrow." He nodded at Blaise, who returned the gesture and continued after Pansy in the floo.

"I'll drop by tonight, Ron," Hermione grinned at the redhead, and waved as he called, "The Lucky Beaker!" and disappeared into the flames.

"Finally," muttered Harry, clearly relieved to watch them go, and stretching his arms above his head he sighed, "The pressure!" He straightened up a bit - he was still crammed into the corner of the couch, but he looked a little less dejected than he had before. "Sorry we crashed," he halfheartedly smiled at Draco. "I know you have better things to do today. You don't really need to take me shopping. I'm a big boy, I know where Madam Malkin's is."

"Right," Draco said firmly. First thing you're going to do Potter, is perk up. I'm not spending an afternoon with a pathetic shade of the prat I'm used to." Draco called for a house elf to send some tea up. "Second, Theo, what did you want?"

Theo shot Draco a smirk. "Not a damn thing, I was just tired of watching Pansy fondle Blaise and flirt with Weasley. There's only so much I can take and I was at my bloody limit. That woman is _shameless!_ "

"I don't know, Theo," Hermione moved to stand next to him, "Blaise didn't look like he minded. Perhaps," she shot a smirk at Theo, "Pansy takes two men to keep her occupied."

"Then Blaise isn't doing his job properly." He shook his head. "Pathetic."

"And I'm sure you could do it better?" Hermione looked up at Theo from under her lashes, a slight blush staining her cheeks.

"My woman wouldn't need two men," Theo smiled down at Hermione from his lofty height.

Draco was a little disturbed by the flirty look Theo was giving the curly haired woman, and coughed to break the moment. "Right, well… go and occupy yourselves then. Shoo."

Hermione's blush became a bright red and she ducked her head. "I do have work to do," she stated.

Harry rose to give her a hug and whisper in her ear. Draco couldn't hear what was said, but he did hear the returning "just tell him, he'll understand," from Hermione, followed by a dirty look from Harry.

Theo tugged Draco to the side as the two friends whispered harshly to each other.

He muttered lowly, "there is more context to this whole shopping trip, but it's really not for me to tell you, but according to Herm- Granger, Potter has never had clothes that fit. He was given," here he took a disgusted breath, " _second hand clothes!_ "

Draco gasped. "That's disgusting! No wonder he's a wreck of a human being."

"Mhmm," Theo agreed. "And it was He - Granger's idea we come to you. You're the most likely to not make a big deal about it. The others don't know that part. Granger knew you'd do the right thing with that information, yes?" He arched a perfect brow.

"Yes, yes," Draco murmured impatiently. "Is that the reason for whatever's happening with him today, or is there something else? I don't think he's looked this depressed since the war."

"I wouldn't know." Theo blinked and his face became a blank slate. "Granger, are you interested in a trip to the Leaky? I'm peckish, and I refuse to go anywhere near Horizont Alley while that lack of decorum is happening."

A light blush returned to Hermione's face. "Oh, well, if you'd like the company, I suppose I can spare some time."

Draco and Harry watched the two wave and leave via the floo, just as a house-elf appeared with a tray of tea. "On the balcony please, Pipsy," Draco directed. "If you will, Potter?" He gestured towards the chair and table now laid out ready for them to partake.

Harry smiled the first genuine smile Draco had seen so far and moved to sit carefully down.

"I'm sure I don't say it often enough, Malfoy, but I do love what you've done to the manor." Harry smiled up at Draco as he sat down.

"I like it too. And now that I'm the only one living here, I only have to please myself. Mother and Father would never have liked what I've done to the place." Draco shot a smirk at Harry. "Now, milk and two sugars, yes?" Draco's hands were already moving through the practiced motions of pouring Harry's tea.

"Mhmm," Harry looked closely at Draco, surprised. "How did you know that?"

"I pay attention, Potter. Knowing how someone takes their tea tells you a lot about a person," Draco said pretentiously, placing the cup gently in front of Harry. "Anyway, that's not important. What has made you so uncomfortable today? I can't believe that the idea of going shopping for clothes is what has made you go all… whatever you are."

Harry took a sip of his drink and sighed. "I'm not anything. I objected to the imposition on your time. And their reasoning for my new wardrobe."

"And their reasoning was…?" Draco prompted.

Harry cracked his neck. "Partly because Pansy simply doesn't like anything I wear. She says it's all too big. Which is a fair point, most of it used to belong to Dudley. You know, my cousin?"

He placed his hands atop his head and stared at the ceiling. "But they worked out I haven't dated in... I don't know how long. A while." He sighed. "And it's not that big a deal, really, but you know Ron. He made it into a huge deal so then Pansy and Blaise jumped on the bandwagon, and I think Theo was just mocking them all, but it's kinda hard to tell with him, you know?"

Draco nodded thoughtfully. "He is hard to read. Not that Granger seems to have a problem with that." He shot a cheeky smirk at Harry.

Harry chuckled. "Oh, you see it too?"

Draco allowed a small smile.

Harry sighed - this time, not as emotionally as before. "Look, I'd love it if you could help me replace all my clothes. But only if you have time."

"You're not that hard up are you Potter, surely?" Draco drawled."I've seen both witches _and_ wizards literally throw their underwear at you. I'm sure that you could just owl any of them for a date."

Harry took a fortifying sip of tea. "Yes, I'm sure I could. But… those people all want -" He switched into the deep voice of Severus Snape (as close as he could get, anyway), " -famous Harry Potter." He shrugged. "They all expect things of me, and you and I both know I have no idea what I'm doing on a good day, let alone on a date with a stranger. So I don't date. They all want the fame and the reporters and the story. I want… reading in the library, quiet dinners and to fade into the background. I don't know how to find that, but that's what I want."

"And," Draco intoned, "there is also the fact that you're a raging homosexual."

Harry snorted at Draco's offhand comment. "I didn't know you knew that. He shook his head. "How raging can I be? I haven't dated since Ginny. And she was very definitely female. And my last kiss was Seamus, as a dare, at the beginning of eighth year. So… raging, I think not."

Draco let a small smile escape. "Perhaps not." Turning serious for a moment, he said, "I don't know if a new wardrobe will solve all your problems, but it will at least make you feel good. And," he put his teacup down decisively. "It will save me from wanting to scratch out my eyes every time I look at you."

"Look at me often, do you?" Harry laughed and put his cup down. "Alright. Now or another time?"

"I've already filed my parchment, Potter. Now or never." Draco was pleased. He'd never been the one responsible for cheering Harry up and he found he didn't mind the feeling of accomplishment that accompanied it.

"Now, I guess." Harry stood up and leaned over to adjust the cuffs of his overlong jeans. "Where to? Diagon Alley?"

Draco snorted. "I don't think so, Potter. We will floo to a place called 'Sloane Boulevard.' Can you repeat that please? I don't want you ending up somewhere dangerous." He gave Harry a mocking smile.

"It happened once, Malfoy." Harry objected. "Once! And I was _twelve_ at the time." He took a handful of floo powder and muttered, "I can't believe Ron told you that. SLOANE BOULEVARD!"

And he was gone.

Draco allowed himself to crack into a grin. "That's better." He double checked to make sure he had his wand and wallet and followed Harry with a _whoosh!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"No, no, no, Potter!" Draco snapped. "You have the fashion sense of a drunk three year old!" He snatched the red trousers out of Harry's hands and threw them back in the pile. "I _know_ you have money. I don't know why you go straight to the bargain bin. You need properly fitted clothes, not this off-the- rack rubbish."

"I know I said you were the expert, Malfoy," Harry snarked, "but they're just clothes! I just want something that looks okay and fits properly!"

"Well in that case, you should have brought Granger." Draco smacked a clothes hanger holding a pair of garish orange trousers out of Harry's hands. "I was under the impression I was volunteered because I could make you look _good._ Is this not the case?"

Harry was beginning to get a little unnerved. Draco was a man on a _mission._ "I didn't realise you take shopping so seriously," he ventured, carefully putting down every item of clothing in his hands.

Draco turned on him, eyes flashing. "I don't take shopping seriously. I take this _responsibility_ seriously." He grabbed a burgundy button down shirt and pair of dark jeans off a nearby rack. "From this moment on, when people look at you, they will know _I_ am the one who dressed you. You are a reflection of me. And who am I?"

Harry was starting to get a little worried. "Uh, Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes!" Draco hissed. "A Malfoy. And Malfoy's have a reputation, an image, to protect. And I will protect it by any means necessary, do you understand, Potter?" He thrust the hangers into Harry's arms.

"Alright, alright," Harry conceded. "Calm down. It's fine. I'll buy whatever you say. Whatever you say, okay? You're the boss."

"The boss?" Draco's face immediately brightened and his voice lost it's hard edge. "I like the sound of that, Potter. It's a role I'm used to. I like it when people do what they're told."

"Colour me surprised, Malfoy," Harry snickered. "Alright, let's do this."

Over the next thirty minutes, Draco shoved item after item of clothing into Harry's arms. The heavy pile of clothing towered over Harry's head, and he staggered under its weight. "Malfoy!" His voice was muffled by the layers of cloth in his face. He could hear Draco humming somewhere in the distance. "Malfoy!" he shouted louder.

"Potter?" Malfoy stalked around him. "I thought we had agreed you would take this seriously!"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, exasperated. "I am taking it seriously! I just needed you to stop; I can't carry anymore!"

"Are you a Wizard or not, Potter?" Draco waved his wand and the items of clothing flew themselves into the closest fitting room. Harry's eyes followed the pile, mouth agape.

"But - why didn't you do that before?" he asked, hands on hips. "I've been lugging that pile around for ages!"

Draco sighed, "I hadn't realised you hadn't done it, Potter, I was in the zone. No need to get all up in arms about it."

"What spell?"

"What? What spell?" Draco repeated, confused.

"That spell to get the clothes to fly to the fitting rooms. What is it?" Harry asked patiently.

"You don't know it?" Draco paused, tilting his head quizzically. "What on earth did they teach you in the Gryffindor common room?"

What surprised Harry was how genuine Draco's concern appeared. "Well, you know, just the basics. Starting fires, summoning food, tying and untying shoelaces, conjuring lube." He shot a cheeky smile at Draco. "You know, everyday things."

"I knew Gryffindors were freaks," Draco muttered. "It doesn't matter. I'll tell you in the next shop. For now, let's get you trying on these clothes." He gave Harry a forceful shove in the back and Harry went skidding into the change room.

"Next shop?" Harry's voice was filled with horror, which made Draco inadvertently crack a smile.

"These are day to day clothes, Potter," he drawled. "You will also need clothing for formal occasions. Ministry Galas and such."

He heard a heavy sigh coming from behind the curtain.

"Less bitching Potter. If anyone wanted to celebrate me, I'd let them." Draco tapped his foot impatiently.

"You don't need anyone to celebrate you, Malfoy, you celebrate you enough." Draco could hear the humour in Harry's voice, and wondered when they had arrived at this point of camaraderie. Draco didn't know, but he realised he was really coming to enjoy it- although he would deny that if asked. There was just something about Harry; he didn't really understand holding himself back - he could lie or withhold information, of course, but everything he did he threw himself into 100%, even a shopping trip he wasn't overly enjoying. He was kind, and friendly and would do anything for you - not in the underhanded Slytherin way Draco was used to, but blatantly in your face.

As Draco was pondering, he caught sight of Harry's head peeking around the curtain.

"How am I meant to know if it looks good?" Harry asked, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

"You are meant to show me," Draco snorted. "As though you can be trusted to make this decision on your own."

Harry sighed heavily. "Do I _have_ to? Isn't there just a rule I could follow? You know, how tight is too tight for pants?"

"Yeah, no." Draco shrugged mock apologetically. "We both know you have no fashion sense. Just let me look and this will go much more easily."

Harry reluctantly stepped out of the fitting room. "Fine."

Had Draco been of inferior breeding, this would have been the moment his jaw dropped. As it was his gasped, "I am a _genius!"_ nearly made Harry check for curses.

"A genius?"

"Yes, Potter, a genius!" Draco grabbed Harry's wrist and yanked him away from the fitting room. "Spin," he made the universal motion with his finger and sat on a nearby couch.

Harry reluctantly turned in a circle, arms wide. "I assume this means I look alright."

"Alright is an understatement, Potter." Draco leaned back in satisfaction. "I have made the most of your meagre features and have ensured you may be able to pick up one of these days. You're welcome."

"Uhm, if you say so." Harry shrugged. "May I ask, for future reference, exactly what it is that you like about this outfit? I might need to go shopping by myself one day."

"Why would you go by yourself when I'm a master of fashion?" Draco scoffed.

"Humour me, Malfoy." Harry began to get exasperated. "They just look like clothes to me. Just you know… smaller than what I'd normally wear."

"Yes, the clothes fit, Potter," Draco began. "But it's more than that. Let's start with the shirt. Look at how the shoulders sit. They are perfect. Not too wide, and not too narrow. The sleeves are not too long, and the fit of the sleeves emphasise your biceps, without bulging." A delicate blush ran up his defined cheekbones as he realised what he had said.

"Biceps?" Harry looked at his own arms. "I guess?"

Draco couldn't hold back a snort. "Yes Potter, you have muscles." He smirked condescendingly. Harry turned to look back in the fitting room mirror.

"Huh." Was all that came out of Harry's mouth.

"Context Potter," Draco drawled.

"Oh," Harry took a deep breath, shaking off his discomfort. "New clothes mixed with a flattering charm on the mirror, right?"

Draco looked confused, "I'm not sure I understand, Potter. What you see in the mirror is what I'm looking at right now. The only difference from usual is that you are not hidden by those rags."

"You don't need to bullshit me, Malfoy," Harry snorted. "I know what I look like. I know these kinds of shops put charms on their mirrors to encourage you to buy things. If I look half this good I'm happy," he shrugged, feigning carelessness. "I know in reality I'm scrawny, short, weird looking. I don't have, you know, muscle definition like you do."

Draco resisted the urge to preen, realising the tone of the situation. "Christ, Potter," he sighed. "No wonder you always look so bedraggled. You think you are." Draco stood. "You need confidence. Do you know how I always look this good?"

Harry looked at Draco carefully. "I have some ideas."

Draco smiled. "Okay, how do I always look so dashing?" At the awkwardly amused look on Harry's face, he continued, "humour me."

Harry shrugged, still looking awkward. "You're tall. You have nice eyes. You wear nice things?"

"Seriously Potter? That's it?" Draco asked in exasperation. "You look at me and there are only two attractive things about me?" He turned away to regain his composure, muttering, "only two things? I've had dates who have listed more in two seconds." He turned back to Harry, setting his shoulders. "Right. I'm not going to toot my own horn, Potter. But keep looking, I can assure you that I have more than two attractive features. I wear the clothes; the clothes don't wear me." He strode towards Harry and centred him in front of the mirror. "Right. Ears open because odds are this will never happen again.

"Let's take it from the top. Your hair is insane. No, Potter," he said catching Harry's insulted look. "It makes you who you are. If only it would settle a bit it would be artfully messy…" he trailed off, mind whirring. Catching himself, he continued. "You have amazing eyes. The green is startling. They are, forgive the expression, eye catching." He allowed a small smile. "Light smattering of freckles, pouty, kissable lips, strong jawline." Draco paused, clearing his throat. "Right, look at your shoulders. Broad, muscular. Defined chest and biceps, large hands, long fingers, tanned." As he spoke in a very matter of fact tone, he noticed a blush rise on Harry's face. "Charming blush," he smirked again. "Calm down Potter, I can appreciate a good looking man without hitting on him."

Harry looked down at his bare feet. Draco went on to compliment every part of Harry's body from chest to feet, then moving on to his admirable characteristics - hardly a smirk or word of snark to be heard. "Do I need to go on Potter?" he asked, finally completing the long, long, list.

Harry had spent the majority of that list staring at Draco's face over his shoulder in the mirror, mouth agape. Catching Draco's eye as he finished talking, he dropped his gaze to the floor, embarrassed, shuffling his bare feet awkwardly.

"Potter?" Draco said, frowning.

"You think my lips are kissable?" Harry smiled shyly up at him.

Draco groaned in frustration. "Of course that's all you got from that."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

After their shopping trip was complete -and Draco had recovered over a nice lunch and cup of tea at a local cafe - they paused to assess their purchases.

"Casual clothes, underthings, formal wear, shoes." Draco nodded decisively. "Alright, that's a whole new wardrobe."

He deftly re-shrunk all the packages and handed them back to Harry to put in his pocket. "Just one more thing, Potter. How do you feel about new glasses?"

Harry smirked at Draco. "To enhance my eye-catching eyes?" he sassed. He mulled the suggestion over for a minute while Draco blustered. "I'd prefer no glasses, if I had a choice," he said, and then in a more serious tone, "but I'm happy to get new ones if you think I need them."

"You do," said Draco, "but if you would prefer none, why don't we just get you Occuspecs?"

"Occuspecs? What're they?" Harry asked, pushing his glasses up his nose again.

Draco began to wind between the crowds of people along the Boulevarde, clearly intent on their last destination. "Occuspecs," he said over his shoulder. You know the lense part of your glasses? They shrink those down and place them directly on the eyeball. I don't know the technical terms, but Daphne Greengrass wears them. They're not permanent, they only last a year, I think…" he trailed off as he made a sharp right turn and stepped through the doorway of an adjacent shop. He often forgot Harry was raised by Muggles, and made a mental note to keep that in mind.

Half an hour later, as they sky began to darken, Draco walked out of the optometrists; a glasses free Harry beside him. Draco let out an uncharacteristic giggle at the way Harry was peering around. "It's like you've never seen anything before," he sniggered.

"I've been wearing those glasses as long as I can remember," Harry protested, "and I know we were just here, but it looks so different." He gazed around. "Have colours always been so sharp and bright?" He looked at Draco. "Has your hair always looked so…"

"Breathtakingly stunning?" Draco finished for him. "Yes."

"No, I was going to say straight," Harry looked closer. "I always thought your hair was a bit fluffier looking," he mused, "like, not as fluffy as Hermione's, but still…" He reached out a hand as if to touch it.

"How _dare_ you!" Draco huffed and slapped at Harry's hand. "My hair has always been straight and perfect!"

"I didn't say imperfect, Malfoy," Harry interrupted, attempting to mollify Draco. "Obviously my glasses weren't effective enough. Now I can-" He blushed again. He was doing that a lot today, he thought. "I can more clearly admire your… beauty?" he finished, unsure if the adjective would pacify Draco.

"Beauty?" Draco scoffed. "A bit feminine, isn't it Potter?" He was clearly much calmer now, back to his usual snarky tone.

"If the boot fits, Malfoy," Harry grinned up at the blond. "No, but really," he continued as they made their way back to the apparition point, "I appreciate this. You spent your whole day doing this for me. You're nicer than you want people to think you are."

An embarrassed look flickered across Draco's face before smoothing to his usual nonchalance. "Yes, well, don't let it get out Potter." His lips quirked into a smile. "Losing Granger and Weasel to heart attacks at the same time would be suspicious."

"I imagine it would," Harry nodded agreeably, smirking.

The following Friday afternoon, Draco appeared unexpectedly on Harry's door step. When he sold Grimmauld Place, Harry had moved into a smaller, though no less impressive, home. While not as grand as the public had expected, it did have large grounds, complete with Harry's one indulgence - a half sized Quidditch Pitch.

Draco admired the grounds as he waited for Harry to answer the door.

"Malfoy! What are you doing here?" Harry was drying his hands on a green tea towel. "I wasn't expecting you, was I?"

"No, no, Potter. I am here," Draco announced grandly, "to complete the solving of your wardrobe crisis." He pushed past Harry and strode into the house. "Bedroom?" he queried imperiously.

"Hang on!" Harry protested. "You can't just-"

"Oh can't I?" Draco asked. "You agreed that you are now a reflection of me. I cannot have you appearing in public in any of your former clothing." He began to walk up the stairs, assuming that would be where Harry's bedroom was located. "So we need to dispose of it. Set fire to it, preferably." He began opening doors as he came to them. "Out of interest, how many bedrooms in this house, Potter?"

Harry looked disarmed by the apparent change of topic. "Six," he answered. "One each for Ron, Hermione and Teddy. Two guest rooms and, of course, mine."

Draco snorted. "Only six?"

"It's already more than I need, Malfoy," Harry rolled his eyes.

"Hmmm," Draco paused at the last door. "Potter, is this your room?"

Harry entered it in resignation, sighing and leading the way to the walk in wardrobe. All of his clothes had been hung up neatly by his House Elf, Tissy (who was paid, of course).

His old clothes had been pushed into a corner of the wardrobe, with the intent of never being looked at again.

"I knew it!" Draco exclaimed in horror, startling Harry out of his daze. "I knew they'd still be hanging here, insulting your new clothes with their very presence." He elegantly pulled off his outer robes and placed them on the back of a nearby chair, leaving him in -

"Jeans?" Harry whispered under his breath.

As Draco straightened, Harry couldn't take his eyes off the curve of Draco's arse. Catching himself before Draco noticed, he leaned back against the ceiling height mirror, hands behind his back, and stared at the roof.

"Right," Draco began commandingly. "Wand out."

Harry chuckled. "Is that a euphemism, Malfoy?

"No?" Draco looked confused for a second, then rolled his eyes. "Nice, Potter," he said dryly. "Here I am to help you, and here you are thinking dirty."

"With you in those jeans, who wouldn't?" Realising what he had just said, Harry blushed deeply, ducking his head and returning his hands to his pockets.

To his surprise, Draco's usually stoic face broke into a grin and he snickered.

Harry admired the way Draco's face lit up when he let his mask down. "You should smile more often," he advised, still leaning against the mirror.

"You should wear the clothes I chose more often," Draco shot back, "then people would admire your arse too."

"I always wear my new clothes!" Harry protested. "I'm wearing them now and I was cleaning the bloody dishes, wasn't I?"

Draco gave Harry a pointed look. "And how many requests to dinner have you had?" He rifled through the hanging clothes to ensure none of the offensive old clothes remained anywhere else.

"Today?" Harry snarked. "None." He ran his hands through his messy hair.

"Since last week, idiot. Who on earth would ask you to dinner if they knew you _hand washed_ your own dishes?" Draco sniffed pompously before finishing his perusal of the wardrobe. He began pulling Harry's old clothes off the hangers and throwing them into a pile on the bedroom floor.

Harry didn't deign to answer, instead turning around and exiting the wardrobe with an uncharacteristic flounce.

Draco followed him sedately to perch delicately on the edge of Harry's unmade bed. "Is that a no, Potter?" he asked incredulously.

Harry could have laughed at the genuinely perplexed look on Draco's face. As though the idea of someone _not_ asking him to dinner was utterly ridiculous, based _entirely_ on a new selection of clothing. He dropped to sit on the floor next to where Draco sat on the bed, leaning against the side near Draco's long, denim clad legs.

"It's not a no, Malfoy," Harry couldn't help but smile. "Unfortunately, though, being me has some drawbacks." He sat up and ran a hand through his hair again. "I _have_ been hit on this week-"

"Of course you have," Draco interrupted. "I made you look amazing!"

Harry nodded and then sighed. "Unfortunately, none of those T-shirts you chose had slogans that said anything like, 'don't bother, ladies, I prefer your brother,' or anything like that."

Draco broke into helpless laughter. "More witches, Potter?" he bent over his crossed legs, trying to stifle his chuckles.

Harry shrugged, resigned. "Short of putting an advert into the Daily Prophet advertising the fact I'm gay, I'm at a loss." He tilted his head to look at Draco's face. "How do _you_ find boyfriends?" he asked curiously.

Draco shrugged elegantly. "I don't _do_ boyfriends, to start with. I pick up, shag, and move on." He stood and began to pick up Harry's discarded clothes one by one, shooting a quick ' _Incendio'_ at them with a negligent wave of his wand.

Harry rose to join him, but instead of disintegrating each item at a time, he transfigured a nearby shoe into an iron cauldron and lit a dazzling blue fire within it. He grabbed the heap of clothes and dumped them straight in. He settled back onto the floor to watch them slowly burn.

"So what? It's only ever a one night thing?" he inquired hesitantly, knowing he was pushing the boundaries of their relatively new friendship. They did not often talk about personal subjects. _But_ , Harry thought, _to be fair, they often did not spend time together just the two of them._

"Perhaps two or three," Draco drawled, settling himself back next to Harry, eyes on the fire. "But no one's held my interest longer than that." He shrugged again. "So, I move on. No point lingering and risking them developing feelings I have neither the time nor inclination to deal with."

"Makes sense," Harry nodded slowly. "But what if you met someone who _did_ hold your interest?"

His eyes hadn't left the fire, which was slowly beginning to die down. 

Summoning Harry's old shoes, including his favourite trainers, from the wardrobe, Draco directed them into the cauldron to spark the flames up again.

Harry dropped his head in his hands and groaned. "They were my most comfortable shoes, you bastard!"

Draco smirked and continued as though he hadn't left off. "So are you asking how to meet men?"

"Well, yes," Harry slanted him a dry look. "I believe those were almost my exact words."

The two men remained next to each other on the bed; Harry looking at his bare feet, still blushing faintly, Draco leaning on his hands, face thoughtful as he stared at the fire. They sat in companionable silence as the fire burned low once again, before Draco stood abruptly again and summoned his robes. "Alright, Potter, I have a dinner engagement. I'll be back tomorrow at nine. I will dress you, and we will stop for drinks on the way to Narnia."

Harry looked up at Draco with some confusion on his face. He rose to escort Draco down the stairs. "We will what?"

"Really, Potter," Draco sighed with some amusement on his face. "We will stop at a bar with some acquaintances of mine, before continuing on to Narnia." At Harry's still perplexed look, Draco continued, "Narnia? Premier gay club of wizarding London?"

Harry snorted, "Malfoy, you realise you're my only gay mate, right?"

Partially in shock that Harry had clarified their relationship to 'friends' rather than 'people who interact due their friends being friends,' and partially because "Potter, you know that Weasley isn't exactly straight, right?" Draco was slightly concerned. If Harry was that unobservant, it was a rather large concern.

Harry sighed in exasperation. "Yes, I know that, but he doesn't actively look for men to date. He doesn't trawl the clubs or pick up in bars or… whatever normal men do. He just... takes people as they come."

Draco smirked and opened his mouth to make a smart comment.

Cutting him off, Harry said, "Yes, I know what I said! You know what I meant!"

"Yes, I suppose I did," Draco said agreeably. "However I am indeed running late now, so I will see you tomorrow at nine. We will out you to the world the way I outed myself," he announced grandly.

Harry paused, and his face scrunched in confusion. If Draco had been looking, he would have seen the very second Harry processed what he had said, .

"Wait, how were you outed?" Harry asked, frowning as he racked his brains, trying to remember if he had ever been told. He waited for the answer, admiring the fit of those jeans once more as Draco strolled towards the apparition point, hands in pockets.

Draco turned so he was walking backwards away from Harry, a sly smile on his face, before spinning without a word and apparating away.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco was spending a lovely morning at Zabini Manor. Every second Saturday he could be found there with Pansy and Blaise, partaking in a relaxed brunch. Today the table on the balcony had been set, and Draco tilted his head up to allow the sun to shine warmly on his face. Pansy was chattering away about the latest gossip she had heard over the counter where she worked; florists heard a remarkable amount of gossip and they spread even more, and they always knew which wizard needed to buy his wife or mistress a bunch of flowers to make up for a transgression.

Blaise made a sardonic remark and Draco allowed himself a smile. He sipped his mimosa and flicked open his copy of the Daily Prophet, breezing through the main news on the front page before letting out an inelegant snort.

Blaise, who had been absentmindedly kissing Pansy's fingers as he read a copy of That Witch! magazine, raised an eyebrow. "Cannons lost again?" he enquired.

Draco looked up with a slight frown. "What? Oh, no. Not Quidditch." He flicked the paper straight and said, "just they've got Potter in here again. 'Ladies Man Potter Playing the Field?'" He huffed a laugh, indicating the picture. "It's a photograph of him catching a witch who tripped into him and smiling at her friend. Ladies man!" he snorted again.

Pansy and Blaise swapped a look.

"So how did shopping with Potter go?" she asked casually.

Draco didn't look up from the newspaper. "Didn't we talk about this already?" he said irritably. "It went well, Pansy. He behaved and I made him look astonishingly unlike his usual self." He shrugged. "As was expected." He turned a page.

"Hmmm," Blaise hummed thoughtfully. "Of course." He helped himself to another croissant. "So did the two of you talk, or was it all fashion related?"

Pansy sipped her mimosa. "What on earth would Draco and Potter talk about?" She raised an arched eyebrow at Blaise. "It's not as though they are exactly peers, are they? Draco was just doing the poor thing a favour. Very selfless of him." Her mouth twitched as Draco's head shot up to pin her with a glare.

"Potter doesn't need our pity, Pansy. He is a perfectly fine person who just needs a little guidance." Draco huffed a sigh, sitting back in his chair and pushing the newspaper away in annoyance. "Saviour of the wizarding world and he thinks he's not good enough. Can you believe it? What on earth is wrong with him?"

From the corner of his eye, Draco watched Blaise very carefully not look at Pansy, his lips twitching. In contrast, his voice was very serious when he asked: "So who will provide that guidance, Draco? You're a very busy man, so I assume-"

"Assume nothing, Blaise," Draco sniffed imperiously. "There is no one better suited to this task."

"And is that," Pansy paused as though looking for the right way to word her thoughts, "guidance going to be, uh, hands on?" She was swirling her mimosa around the champagne glass now, frowning slightly at Draco.

"Hands on? Why would you ask-?" Draco caught himself. There had been something in Pansy's tone. "What kind of guidance would I need to give Potter with my hands, Pansy?" he laughed it off. "I'm helping him to find dates, I don't need to initiate him into the gay underground, for Merlin's sake!"

"There's a gay underground?" Blaise leant forward in interest. "Could you-"

"Blaise! Now is not the time!" Pansy snapped. "I don't think he-"

"Well you shouldn't-"

"I didn't intend to, but he doesn't know!" Pansy threw her hands in the air, inadvertently splashing the remnants of her drink over the heads of both men. Sighing in exasperation, Pansy waved her wand to remove the mess and gently put down her glass. "It's not our business, but Draco, you have to understand that Potter-"

"If it's his business and not yours Pansy," Draco drawled, "then I don't need you to tell me." He raised a sardonic eyebrow. "I daresay he'll tell me tonight after a drink or two, if I need to know. Or, say, have my suspicions confirmed."

"Very mature of you, Draco." Blaise shot Pansy a look that clearly said 'mind your own business,' and changed the topic of conversation to something he clearly considered less controversial.

The conversation lulled and the trio returned to their drinks and last remnants of food. Draco very nearly fell out of his chair at the sudden grumble of "there you are!" coming from behind him. The Zabini wards hadn't chimed, so this person was keyed in to come and go as they wished, and, as far as Draco knew, only the three people partaking in today's brunch were able to do so.

Upon seeing the delighted looks on Blaise and Pansy's faces, Draco subtly put his wand back into his holster and turned to see the unexpected arrival.

Ron threw himself down on the chair next to Blaise and grabbed a croissant and snagged Blaise's glass. "Finally. I've been looking for you all over, Malfoy!"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I would have assumed Blaise and Pansy would have warned you I'd be here this morning."

Ron flushed and averted his eyes. "They may have, but I possibly forgot." He took a large bite of his croissant, finishing the majority of it in a swift move. He chewed and swallowed before getting to his point. "I'm here because Hermione sent me."

Draco folded his newspaper and poured himself a cup of tea while he waited for Ron to get to his point.

Ron, who was leaning over the table to get to the last pastry while using the time to make eyes at Pansy continued, "right, yes, well Hermione had a message for you. I don't know why she couldn't deliver it but I think she was just trying to get rid of me because Theo was either coming round or already there and-"

Blaise smiled affectionately. "Weasley, you're rambling again."

"Sorry." Ron flushed and smiled back. Almost shyly, Draco thought. "Malfoy, Hermione suggested you go and comfort Harry because he's freaking out about your whatever tonight."

"My whatever?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Well, that's what we kept calling it, but Harry was very emphatic that you hadn't asked him out on a date," Ron mumbled through his pastry, rolling his eyes. At least he wasn't making eyes at Blaise again, Draco thought.

"Well, I hope he didn't think it was a date," Draco drawled. "As I've organised him a coming out of sorts."

The group fell silent as a house elf popped in and out, removing all evidence of the brunch, leaving behind only water.

"Did he want it be be a date?" Blaise asked, out of nowhere.

"Huh?" Ron looked confused. He had been staring at the ceiling, obviously not thinking along the same lines as the other three.

"Darling," Pansy quirked a smile, "do try to keep up. Did Potter want it to be a date with Draco?"

She stood and stretched before dropping delicately onto Blaise's lap. She toed off her shoes and propped her feet on Ron's lap, wriggling her toes and raising an eyebrow. Ron sighed and began to massage her feet.

"No," he pondered aloud, "I don't think so. Although-"

Blaise shook his head firmly at Ron, who broke off mid-sentence.

Draco sniffed and said, "well, if no one is going to finish their sentences properly, I'm going to go home." He stood tall and sketched a half hearted bow to Pansy. "Thank you for brunch, I'll see you tomorrow. Keep an eye on the papers."

He strolled out of the room, turning back to ask a question, before spinning on his heel and making fast tracks out of there. He would never get the image of Ron leaning over Pansy while snogging the life out of Blaise out of his head. If being keyed into the wards wasn't clue enough that things had progressed in the trio's relationship, this was loud and clear. Draco shuddered. Yuck.

Having flooed home immediately from Zabini Manor, Draco strode quickly to a mirror in the adjacent hallway and checked his reflection. Seeing his hair neatly in place, he returned to the floo to call Harry.

"What on earth is wrong with you, Potter?" Draco drawled. It was hard to look pompous on his knees but somehow, Draco managed to pull it off.

"Why would anything be wrong Malfoy?" Harry asked, eyes sliding to the side.

"Firstly, I can see you doing that strange hand-wringing thing you do when you're panicking," Draco began.

Harry looked down and grasped his hands together, halting their twisting, frantic movements.

"Secondly," Draco continued, "I was subjected to the horror of Ron Weasley at brunch this morning. Apparently Granger said you were having some sort of emotional breakdown and I was required."

Harry turned away from the floo so that Draco couldn't see his face. Draco noted the tense set of his shoulders and rapid breathing and softened his voice. "Potter, it's okay. I'm not going to make you do anything awful. If you want to pull the plug, we can just have a nice dinner at the manor and you can show me that muggle movie you were telling me about." He looked earnestly as he could through the flames. "My intent is not to go out of our way to out or upset you. I really just want you to meet some friends of mine."

Harry's eyes had returned to Draco's part way through his monologue. He had a small smile on his face and his eyes were bright.

"I'll be okay," he smiled. "Sorry I freaked out. I just hate that this has to be a production." He sighed. "And everyone has an opinion on it."

Draco's usually stoic face broke into a gentle grin. "I understand. After the war I was subjected to that particular brand of insanity. Thankfully, that's tapered off."

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Except for when you're seen with me, of course."

"Of course," Draco agreed. He adjusted his sitting position. "Now, even for me, this is an extended period of being on my knees." He cracked a cheeky smirk. "So how about this? Grab your clothes for tonight and come over. We can pretend to be girls and get ready together. Have a nice dinner and I'll sort out the bird's nest you call your hair."

Harry was now opening laughing, and Draco felt surprisingly good about helping him relax. "Is that a yes?" he asked.

Harry, still laughing, nodded. "Sorry, I just got the visual of you jumping on a bed and having a pillow fight and it's hysterical."

Draco just raised his eyebrows and waited until Harry calmed. "I'll leave the floo open, so just swing in whenever you like." He waited until Harry nodded and was about to end the call. "Oh, and Potter, you'll only need Muggle attire tonight- no robes." The last thing he saw was Harry's surprised face as he shut down the call.

Half an hour later Harry was stepping through the fireplace with an armful of clothes. Draco, who had been sitting on the couch across from it immediately lost his composure. "What the hell, Potter!"

Harry just shrugged helplessly. "I just had so much and I didn't know where we were going."

Draco snorted. "So you brought what? All your favourites?"

Harry muttered, "your favourites." At Draco's shocked look he rushed to continue, "at the shop, you said these ones were your favourites. So, I assumed they were what I should wear."

Draco could feel himself begin to smile. He was touched that Harry had not only been paying enough attention to know what Draco had liked him wearing, but was making an effort to wear something he knew Draco would like.

"Good thinking, Potter. I suppose you're not a total lost cause."

Harry preened under Draco's praise and released the bundle of clothing into the arms of a house elf that Draco had called. "May as well pop them in my room, Pippin," he drawled. Had he been paying proper attention to his guest, he would have seen Harry's breath catch and a small smile form on his lips.

He led Harry through the Manor, up to the balcony outside his office on the second floor. "I take most of my meals here, Potter. I hope that meets with your approval." He had a funny feeling in his stomach he hadn't felt in years. Why on earth was he nervous? It was just Potter.

Harry smiled. "Of course. Everything I've seen in your house is lovely," he leant over the balcony railing to survey the grounds. "Your gardens are beautiful. Is that a maze over there?" he pointed into the distance at a circular range of green hedges.

Draco strolled up beside him, his right arm lightly brushing against Harry's left. A tingle was left where they touched. "Yes," he began, "it was typically used when the Malfoy's were in danger. If they were unable to used magic to leave the property they would enter the maze. If you were not a Malfoy, or invited in, then you would be trapped wandering in the maze." He pointed to the right of the maze to a bright, colourful garden area. "Those are Mother's roses," he began. "Before, well, everything, she would be out among them all day." His voice dropped. "She used to talk to them, and said that was the secret to their beauty. The colours were brighter, scent was stronger and so on."

Harry leaned more firmly against Draco's arm and laid his hand on one of Draco's. "I'm sorry." He looked up at Draco. "Your mother was pretty incredible, you know, and she loved you so much." The heat of Harry's hand warmed the chill that had fallen upon Draco. No matter his parents flaws- and there were many- they were still his parents.

Draco smiled down at the shorter man and returned the gentle smile. "Yes, I suppose so."

"You must really miss her," Harry continued.

"She wasn't a very nice person, Potter." Draco shrugged, his eyes returning to her roses.

Harry squeezed his hand tighter before letting go. "She was still your mother. You can love someone and not like their behaviour." His lips quirked into a half smile. "Trust me, I'm somewhat of an expert."

Draco thought the mood was getting a little too somber for a night out. "Speaking of behaviour, did I tell you what Weasley was doing when I left Blaise's?"

The two relaxed in the wicker seats on the balcony for a good long while. Draco was surprised at the ease in which they spoke of both general matters and personal. As they sipped on tea brought to them by Pippin, Draco realised that he was very much enjoying spending time with Harry one on one. They had similar views on most things - but not enough that their conversation was boring. He also found that Harry was very funny. Unlike Draco's dry sense of humour, Harry's smile was infectious and he shared it often. He asked lots of questions about Draco and how he grew up, and it was while answering one of these questions that Draco had grabbed Harry and pulled him to his feet to give him a tour of the castle.

Draco found his usual stoic persona was worn down by Harry's infectious laughter and he was talking much more than usual - if it were anyone but him, he might even say babbling. In return, Harry had lit up and was throwing in the odd snarky comment. Draco was sure he'd never laughed so freely or genuinely in his life.

As Draco showed Harry around the manor, bypassing the dungeons and the room where Hermione was tortured, they continued to chat until Pippin popped into the indoor pool room, where they were currently debating the purpose of having a pool when you don't like to swim, to announce that dinner was ready.

Groaning at the prospect of an admittedly long walk back to the office, Draco offered to side-along apparate them both there to save time. He noted the slight tremble of Harry's body as he draped an arm around his shoulders and they appeared on the balcony with a pop!

They settled themselves in their chairs and ate, still chatting. "I don't think I've ever heard you talk so much," Harry observed. "You seem to be the strong, silent type usually."

Draco snorted. "Been watching me closely, have you?"

"Ever since sixth year," Harry shot back and poured them both another wine.

Draco traced an invisible circle on the table with his fingertip. "Potter," he began. "I am taking you to meet some friends of mine tonight that even Pansy hasn't met. They don't care who I am and they won't care who you are." He traced faster. "I was… taught at a very young age that Malfoy's wore armour. We were to be unflappable, unshakable. That act takes a lot of work." He stared at a point somewhere behind Harry's head. "At one point I got tired of the act. So I made efforts to step out of my comfort zones. Mingled with Muggles and so forth. I met some wizards who also stepped into Muggle London for fun and, well, we became good friends. We drink together and go to the clubs. And, this, the me you're currently seeing, this is the me that they helped bring out. Comfortable, relaxed. I don't have to hide." He chuckled and returned his eyes to Harry's. "I've drunk so much with them I've been unable to, for the most part."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "So, this is the real you?"

"As much as anything is, I suppose," Draco shrugged.

"I think it is," Harry mused aloud. "Your face hasn't done that blank thing it usually does." He wrinkled his nose at Draco to soften the potential insult. "I'm honoured, Draco, really. I want you to be comfortable around me," he said gently.

"Well turns out I am," Draco stood abruptly. "If you're finished, we should go and get you dressed. We have about an hour before we meet the gentlemen for our pre-club drinks."  
He didn't like the way they had returned to the serious tone. "So how about some eye liner, Potter?"

Draco spent the next hour ensuring Harry didn't get a moment to think. He was sure that what was happening in his bedroom was reminiscent of teenage girls going to a nightclub for the first time- there were piles of clothes on the floor, the sound of hysterical giggling and the occasional shriek. There had been a minor tussle over the eyeliner, with Draco, of course, victorious. He positioned Harry on the bed and leant over him, one knee between Harry's now denim-clad legs. He held the brunette's face still with one hand and dragged out the drawing of the line as long as he could, enjoying the feeling of Harry's breath on his skin and the tingle on his fingers where they touched the other man's chin.

Harry's breath was hot against Draco's skin and his eyes remained closed after Draco finished the perfect smudge of the eyeliner. Draco was sure that Harry hadn't noticed how his fingers had lingered on his chin, stroking down before dropping away. Catching himself still staring, Draco backed away slowly. "Eyes open, Potter," he demanded.

Unfortunately for Draco, that didn't help him at all. Harry's eyes fluttered open, and the green now lined with black kohl was even more startling than usual. Draco, whose knee was still resting between Harry's thighs, caught himself leaning his face towards Harry's, eyes intent on his lips. He jolted back quickly. Not appropriate, Draco! he thought to himself.

He almost stumbled as he removed himself far enough away from Harry that he could breathe again.

This is not good. Not good at all.

"All right then, Potter," he summoned a smile. "Time to get going." He turned and pretended to search his room for his jacket.

"Draco," Harry's voice was breathy. "Your jacket is still in the bathroom. You took it in when you got changed."

"Thanks." Draco didn't look at Harry as he strode past. "I'll just be a sec."

Draco closed the door behind him and leant his head against it. He's not attractive. You are not his type. That is a bad, bad idea.

He moved to the basin, staring at his reflection for a brief minute before splashing his face and taking a deep breath and schooling his features into their usual impassive facade.

"Definitely time to go," he announced as he walked back into the room. "Let's go."

"Do I need any preparation?" Harry asked innocently, standing and brushing his hands over his backside.

Draco's mouth dropped open. "P-preparation?"

Harry cocked his head to the side with a questioning frown. "So I don't embarrass you? Anything I should know about your friends? Rules about the place we're going to?"

"Oh! Oh, no," Draco shook his head and resumed his walk to the entrance hall. He held his arm out for Harry expectantly.

Harry raised an eyebrow in question. Draco offered his arm again. "I'll be side-along Apparating you to the bar."

Harry looked nervous. "I'm not a great side-along passenger," he explained. "It's not that I don't trust you - I do," he assured Draco. "I've just had a few bad experiences."

Draco smiled reassuringly. "I won't let anything happen to you," he promised, and took Harry's hand, tucking it into the crook of his elbow. "I have you." He met Harry's eyes.

And have him Draco did - after the familiar whoosh of Apparation, Draco landed and found his arms wrapped tightly around Harry who was gripping the blonde's arms tightly, head burrowed in the narrow chest. Draco's eyes were drawn to where Harry's white teeth were biting his bottom lip enticingly. Harry's head tilted up slightly further towards Draco's and his eyes fluttered slightly.

"Draco," he breathed.


	5. Chapter 5

"Dray!"

A voice broke through the tense moment, and Harry's eyes flew open. They were standing in a well-lit alley, with people Apparating in and out around them. Draco stepped back quickly from Harry, dropping his arms to his sides and moving his gaze from Harry's lips to his eyes. He held eye contact with Harry for a moment before turning to face the direction the voice came from.

"Jase," he grinned, waving. Beside him, Harry took a deep breath. Draco took his hand to lead him towards the dark skinned man waving at them from the main street, and the slight tremble he felt against his palm had Draco's mind racing. Draco kept the grin on his face as his own breathing returned to normal. He fervently hoped Harry had not noticed it's escalation.

Don't do it to him, he said to himself as they reached his friend. You're not even close to being in his league he remonstrated himself as he made the appropriate introductions. He's here to be introduced to new people, not for you to flirt with.

Draco watched as Jase engaged Harry in conversation (about Quidditch, of course) and was pleased that he had chosen tonight's group carefully, ensuring that none of his attending friends were the kind to be overwhelmed by Harry's celebrity, or to sell a story to the Prophet, but were outgoing enough to make sure the typically shy Harry didn't feel awkward. He watched as Harry's face broke into open laughter as Jase introduced him to a group of men who had strolled up to meet them.

That Harry didn't feel attractive blew Draco's mind. That smile, he thought with a frustrated shake of his head. Has the idiot never looked in a mirror? Any fool can see how gorgeous he is.

"You alright, Dray?" Mitch nudged Draco's shoulder as the group continued to meander towards their usual bar.

"Hmm?" Draco raised a perfect eyebrow. "Yes, of course. When aren't I?"

"You haven't taken your eyes off him." Mitch, who towered over Draco, tilted his head with a half-smile and knowing gaze. "Is there something we should know?"

Draco flushed. "Don't be ridiculous!" he snapped. "He's a friend." He paused, and then amended, "perhaps a protegee of some sort."

Mitch just nodded agreeably. "Sure, sure."

Draco made a dismissive sound and caught up to where Harry and the others were waiting. Draco checked Harry over - still in one piece and not a gibbering wreck, excellent - and led the men to the front of the waiting line.

"A line for a bar?" Harry whispered to Mitch. "Is that normal?"

Mitch smiled down at Harry. "At the places Draco finds, yep. Exclusivity lends itself to privacy-"

"Which means no stories to the Prophet in the morning," Harry finished. "Jeez, he really thought of everything, didn't he?"

Draco chest swelled with pride. Yes, in fact, he had thought of everything. The night did, of course, allow for spontaneity, however, the major moves had been planned. He had even written the headline for the next day's Quibbler, with a promise of 'close source' quotes ready for Luna prior to the early morning print.

He shot the security guard a quick smile and the group was waved through. "Table's waiting, Mr Malfoy," the man nodded respectfully. "Look for the yellow sparks."

Draco surveyed the room, pointing out the reserved area to his mates (the yellow sparks were outshining everything in the room) and made a beeline towards the bar.  
He ordered and levitated the large tray of drinks gracefully back to the table. He took each drink from the tray and presented it to its owner: "Japanese Slipper for Mitch." The drink skidded across the table. "Espresso Martini for Jase," the glass was caught in one hand as Jase continued his conversation across the table with Russ, who almost missed the Pale Ale which came sliding towards him. Two sparkling wines went to Sal and Tony, and a Firewhiskey to Harry. Draco took his glass of wine and slid into the booth next to Harry, sending the tray flying back to the bar, high above the heads of those milling around.

The music was already loud and the rumble of the other patrons lent itself to the buzz of the bar. It wasn't overly late - early enough to be able to walk around without having to push past people, but late enough that the atmosphere was electric.

As Draco surveyed the scenery and sipped his wine, Harry laid a hand on Draco's spare hand which rested on the table. He leant over and muttered into Draco's ear, "thanks for repeating everyone's names."

Draco tried to repress a shiver as Harry's lips brushed his ear lobe. "Well I know how terrible you are with names, Potter, figured you could do with a refresher."

Harry chuckled lightly. "You take such good care of me," and the tell-tale blush of embarrassment rose high onto his cheeks as he returned his hand to his drink after a light squeeze to Draco's. Draco's mind raced. He could feel the warm press of Harry's leg alongside his and marvelled at it. Who would have thought that Harry bloody Potter would ever be willing to be this close to Draco Malfoy?

"-right, Draco?" Draco turned his head back to the speaker - Tony was grinning madly at him.

"Absolutely, Tony." Draco shot back a smile and hoped that he was agreeing appropriately. He had to get his head back into the game. Damn Potter and his hypnotising smile.

Throughout the night, many more drinks were consumed. Draco lost count after Sal bought the table a round of suspicious looking shots, and that was around the point he realised that Harry was an affectionate drunk. A light touch on the hand turned into another, more lingering touch, and it seemed that he was finding it difficult to function without maintaining physical contact with Draco whenever they spoke. He would link their arms together, or lean his shoulder against Draco's. At one point while he was speaking animatedly to Tony, Harry's hand had landed high on Draco's thigh as he leant forward, becoming more enthused about the topic. Draco hardly let himself breathe. He would have found this tipsy version of Harry quite amusing, had the feel of his hand not knotted his stomach.

So consumed with his thoughts, Draco hadn't realised that Harry was pressing his entire body up against his side, tucked under the arm Draco had thrown carelessly over the back of the booth seat. As Harry tilted his head up to ask Draco a question, he was suddenly thrown by the jolt of desire that rushed through him. Harry looked like he belonged there, comfortable and happy.

Draco smiled back without answering, smoothly drawling, "excuse me a moment, I'll be right back," before he slid out of the booth and strode to the men's room. Checking to make sure it was empty, Draco moved straight to the basin. He rinsed his hands with cold water and rubbed it around the back of his neck. He braced his hands on the counter and sighed heavily. He's your friend. He's drunk. He's lonely. He's not interested in you. You're the only person he knows here.

Shaking his head at himself. Developing feelings for a friend was not a good idea. Just because it worked for Blaise and Pansy does not mean that that's what usually happens. That was good luck on their part. So far.

The door bang opened behind him, jolting him out of his thoughts. "Draco!" Mitch yelled with glee. "We want to dance!"

Draco laughed and took Mitch by the arm. "I suppose it's late enough to get to the club."

They returned to the booth to collect their friends and jackets. "Draco!" Harry jumped up and threw his arms around the taller man. "You were gone forever!" he said dramatically.

Draco laughed and disengaged himself. "You are so drunk!" He tapped Harry on the nose. "You're going to regret the booze tomorrow, Potter."

Harry just giggled and allowed himself to be dragged off by Tony.

The group travelled down the road, still chatting and laughing. Draco, not sober but still less drunk than the others, walked a little behind them, admiring the way Harry fit in so well into his friendship group. He hadn't shared this particular group of mates with anyone from Hogwarts, and while he had known that Harry would fit in well, it was another thing to actually see just how well he fit. It was always a source of jealousy for Draco that Harry was so easy going, in contrast to Draco's more stiff and standoffish nature.

As they approached the club the group of men slowed down so Draco could cut through them to lead them to the bouncer. He kissed the familiar man on the cheek and asked after his family before being waved through.

Draco moved into the dark room and paused, letting the beat of the music move through his body. He closed his eyes and smiled, rolling his neck before once again pointing out their reserved seats on the outskirts of the bar area before making a beeline for the bar and setting up a tab.

Several drinks later, the group had scattered around the club - Sal, Russ and Jase had moved to the upstairs room which played an 'old school mix' of both muggle and Wizarding music. Tony had dragged Harry and Mitch to the middle of the dance floor near their table with Draco's promise he would join them after checking out the upper room.

It was with that promise in mind that Draco was searching the lower floor for Harry. Unable to locate the group on the dance floor, he checked the bathrooms and on a whim made his way to the smoking area on the roof. As he exited, pulling a cigarette out of seemingly nowhere, he caught sight of messy hair up ahead. He smirked and made his way to his friends, lighting up the cigarette as he went. Harry's hands were waving as he intently spoke to his new friends, who were smiling at his drunken rambling. "-because he's so pretty and he's always been so pretty and snarky and I've always wanted him."

Draco stepped up to sit on the bar stool next to Harry. "Anyone I know?" he asked, tilting his head in question.

He was astonished when Harry turned bright red and muttered, "bathroom!" before speeding quickly out of the smoking area and down the stairs.

"What just happened?" Draco looked at the others.

"Oh, Harry was just telling us about the bloke he has a crush on," Mitch shrugged and smiled. "He's quite enamoured."

Draco took a drag of the cigarette. "With who?" His stomach was in knots again. He didn't really want to know. It was the old, selfish side of him which was saying I want him, he's mine, almost overriding the voice saying he deserves better, someone more in his league.

Mitch and Tony just snickered. "You'll work it out." Tony stood. "C'mon, let's go in."

The three men stood and made to walk in.

Tony nudged Draco's shoulder. "So, D, how long have you wanted Harry?"

Draco stumbled, catching himself before he hit the floor. "What? What do you mean? I don't know what you're talking about!" He took a second to pull on the old Malfoy reserve. "He's a friend."

Mitch continued in, leaving Troy to grab Draco's arm. "You, Draco Malfoy, have never taken a simple 'friend' shopping."

"I helped him with his wardrobe as a public service, not for him!" Draco protested. "I-"

"You've never gone to so much effort for us to meet someone before." Troy pointed a long finger in Draco's face. "And you've not taken your eyes off him all night. And," he said the next with the tone of someone pulling out a trump card, "you have allowed him to touch you in some manner since you arrived almost kissing!"

Draco's shoulders slumped.

Troy smacked the back of Draco's head. "D'you think I'm an idiot, D?"

"No, but I am," Draco sighed. "I thought I'd be able to manage this. We have only recently started to get along after school. I always thought he was attractive, but straight. And suddenly he was bent and needy and then I got to know him even more and he's even more attractive." He leant against the nearby wall. He turned eyes conflicted with emotion to Troy. "What am I meant to do? I'm meant to be showing him how to meet blokes, not hit on him."

Troy's face was understanding. "D, you're an idiot. That boy is into you. He couldn't be any more obvious."

Draco snorted, dropping his cigarette and grounding it out with his heel. "He deserves better."

Troy rolled his eyes and pulled his mobile phone out of his back pocket. "Just wait a sec," he ordered and turned away, muttering into the phone. He turned back around and handed the phone to Draco. "It's for you," he smirked.

"Hello?" Draco asked before holding the phone away from his ear at the sound of Pansy's shriek.  
He caught pieces of her rant which was essentially telling him to 'sack up' and 'are you a Malfoy or aren't you?' and 'since when do you not take what you want?'

The sound of his oldest friend's voice did a lot to dispel his worries. Of course, Pansy was right.  
He said "thanks, Pans," loudly over the top of her continued ranting and ended the call. He handed it back to Troy and gave him a grateful clap on the shoulder before striding down the stairs before he could lose his nerve.

He found Harry dancing with the rest of the men towards the back of the dance floor, Harry smiling but looking tense and lost in thought when he thought no one was looking. As Draco watched, Mitch slung his arm around Harry's neck and pulled him close. Draco slowed, his confidence waning slightly. What if Harry had been talking about Mitch earlier? As he watched, Harry smiled gently at Mitch and shook his head stepping out from under his arm. Mitch turned to dance with a stranger who was trying to pass by.

Draco renewed his path towards Harry, who upon seeing him coming, stood straighter and his face brightened into a welcoming smile.

How Harry Potter could be so unsure of his worth was ridiculous.

Draco didn't waste any time. He offered Harry his hand, who blushed and accepted it, allowing himself to be pulled close to the blond's body. Draco dropped his hands, guiding Harry's around his waist before settling his own on the shorter man's hips. They danced to the heavy beat of the song, the muggy heat of the club causing sweat to glide down their skin. As the song morphed into another, the beat of this one slowing encouraging the men to move their bodies closer to each other's. Draco's eyes had closed as they moved to the rhythm, but the popped open as Harry pressed his body right up against Draco's. Bright green eyes met icy blue and time stood still.

Draco dropped his head to whisper in Harry's ear. "Want to go for a walk?"

At Harry's breathless nod, Draco took his hand and signalled to the other's that they would be back, before leading Harry through the press of the crowd, towards one of the quieter back rooms.

He could feel Harry's hand trembling in his, and couldn't resist any more. He pressed Harry up against the nearest wall. "Is this okay?" he ran his tongue along the shell of Harry's ear.

"Very okay," Harry gripped Draco's hips in and pulled him close.

Draco buried his face in Harry's neck, breathing in his scent deeply before running gentle kisses down his collarbone. Harry arched his neck allowing Draco better access, sighing his pleasure into Draco's ear. Draco was becoming distracted by the clenching and releasing of Harry's hands on his hips, so seized them in his, pressing them against the wall next to his head. He returned to his exploration of Harry's neck, brushing soft kisses along sweat slicked skin before Draco released Harry's hands, giving him the opportunity to grab Draco's face and haul him in for a bruising kiss. They snogged against the wall as song after song faded in and out, until, breathless, Draco dropped his forehead to Harry's. Harry was grinning uncertainly up at Draco.

"Was that alright?" he asked shyly.

Draco snorted inelegantly. "Are you fishing, Potter?"

He looked down at Harry's shy face and his still trembling hands.

"Not fishing, I see." He sighed. "Harry, it was very alright." He rocked his hips against Harry's, whose mouth dropped open at the feel of Draco's hardness rocking up against his. "But we can't finish this here. Or tonight, in fact."

Harry pouted adorably and tilted his mouth higher so he could plant another kiss on Draco's lips.  
"Why not?"

"Because our first time will not be against a wall in a club with an audience while you're drunk." Draco bit Harry's earlobe. "I shouldn't even be kissing you when you've had so much."

"The Draco Malfoy moral code?" Harry asked wryly, reaching up on his tiptoes to sink his teeth into Draco's collarbone and licking the sting away.

"Something like that," Draco tugged Harry away by his hair, filing away the way Harry's eyes fluttered shut at the feeling for future notice. "C'mon, let's get you home."

Harry paused, face suddenly serious in the pulsing light of the club. "Let me take you out for breakfast tomorrow," he said.

"Won't you be hungover for breakfast tomorrow?" Draco smirked, "I don't want to be stood up."

"I'll pick you up at ten, promise," Harry pressed a kiss to Draco's cheek. "But you have to walk me home now, otherwise I might get lost and no one wants that."

Draco couldn't tell you exactly how they got Harry home - the walk passed in a flurry of gentle kisses and quiet laughter before they finally arrived at Harry's apartment.

Harry leant back on the closed door, head tilted up enticingly to Draco's. "You sure I can't tempt you in?"

Draco smiled gently, "I'd love to, but it's a bad idea." He traced his thumb over Harry's lip. "Plus, you owe me breakfast."

In a whirl of motion Harry had Draco pressed against the door where he had been resting a scant second ago. He pressed his body up against Draco's, who gasped at the feel of the hard length against him. Harry kissed Draco roughly, full of teeth and lips and soft groans. It wasn't until Draco relaxed in his arms and grabbed his arse with both hands that Harry let go and stepped back, panting. "I suppose I'll see you at ten then." He grinned cheekily up at Draco.

Draco took a step towards Harry, with eyes dark with arousal. Harry darted around him and slammed the door behind himself. "See you in the morning!" came Harry's singsong voice. Draco thudded his head on the door and sighed. "Don't be late!" he barked back.


End file.
